Poetry
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The summer is dwindling The fall clouds draw nigh Except here in Texas We’ll probably die From summer part two Or, if curs-ed, a third To those on the east coast It must sound absurd To cookout at Christmas Or a Thanksgiving plunge The climate’s been changing Since Vedder was Grunge Or perhaps even longer
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Joggers & bike thieves The lemon sees all Snickerdoodles walloped by Batman’s neice Broomhilda Hospital television tickers show investment futures to the dying Singing to the deaf Miming to the blind Farting around Brittany Useless gestures wasted on the undeserving Dell just dropped three points and screw little Joey’s kidney in the Igloo cooler Bro’s
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Shoveling soot in micro doses As sunset cleanses another The city is oddly quiet Recovering from yesterday’s horrible realization of Monday And prepping to hump Midway through a nameless scorcher Soon to be considered reasonably and seasonally cool As the summer day fades to black, I see the same skies I saw in childhood, but
The Gonzo Wolf 